


Tentative Tentacles

by salifiable



Category: Ambergris - Jeff VanderMeer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-30
Updated: 2009-01-30
Packaged: 2018-01-25 07:26:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1638845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salifiable/pseuds/salifiable
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being a Thorough Examination of the Unaccountable Timidity of Ambergris Squidologists in Venturing Forth to Conduct First-Hand Research, Due to the Thwarted Underwater Love Affair of Bulmit Henley.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tentative Tentacles

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Helarctos

 

 

### 

A Failure of Nerve Among Amateur Squidologists

#### Being a Thorough Examination of the Unaccountable Timidity of Ambergris Squidologists in Venturing Forth to Conduct First-Hand Research, Due to the Thwarted Underwater Love Affair of Bulmit Henley, and Concluding with a List of Referenced Works and an Complete Explanation of the Author's Methods of Deduction since it is Patently Clear that the Entirety of the Ambergris Squidology Society is Incapable of Finding Its Own Bottom Even with the Help of an Inebriated Overly-Eager Molester of a Deputy Treasurer (Not that the Author is Casting Aspersions on the Conduct of Any Individual During the Last Annual SUCKU OFF [Squidology Unlimited Conference at Kinsbrough University - Open Floor Forum])

**I - An Introduction to the Problem**

It cannot fail to come to the attention of the concerned observer that the discipline of Squidology is in Dire Straits. Although the field may appear to have the artificial glow of health, considering the many new journals and books sprouting up left and right, with such exciting titles as: Squid Pro Quo, or Squid Soup for the Soul-- but no, such drivel cannot be considered of any worth whatsoever. The truth of the matter is that the noble science of squidology is rapidly shriveling away and is in real danger of disappearing altogether; the conscientious reader cannot help but realize that the useless flood of publications not worth the paper and ink used to print them are nothing more than drab derivative dribbling, based off-- at best-- fourth-hand accounts and such speculation and daydreaming that one must seriously suspect the writers of indulging in certain habits with questionable fungi.

To illustrate: the recent paper published to such acclaim, "The Habits of the Dungtittle Cuttlefish" by an unfortunately named Mr. Hugh Jorgan, publishes no new research or first-hand accounts of the even more unfortunately named cephalopod, but rather relies primarily on an analysis Ms. Amber Farleigh published twenty years ago on a paper by Mr. Timothy Ichley published eight years previously that reviewed the then-current state of research on the aforementioned creature; and this is what passes for cutting edge research today! The interested reader would be better served by interrogating the Sullen Seaweed stew sold for five cents a bowl down at the Ambergrisian docks; at least the seaweed might have once had a passing acquaintance with the Dungtittle Cuttlefish!

This utter lack of first-hand research and observation must be remedied immediately in order to revive the health and vitality of the field, and to restore Squidology to its former glory. Several groveling cowards may point to the recent election of Mr. Bulmit Henley as evidence of the Ambergris Squidology Society's commitment to cutting-edge field work, and yet curiously, discussing the particulars of Mr. Henley's work seems to deflate the bravado of even the most brash and cocksure young squidologists, and asking directly whether they wish to follow in Mr. Henley's footsteps appears to induce fainting. This is ridiculous, akin to disclaiming one's generosity because one's right hand is giving candy to a child even as one's left hand snatches it away.

The hypocrisy of this cowardice would be more than sufficient material for a full-blown polemic, but there is more at stake here; I intend to show beyond a shadow of a doubt that Mr. Bulmit Henley's work that these yellow-bellied morons that call themselves squidologists have been using to shield their own despicable timidity is nothing more than a wholesale tissue of lies. Perhaps unwitting, perhaps well-intentioned, but lies nonetheless.

**II - An Explanation of the Thwarted Underwater Love Affair of Bulmit Henley**

In recent years, Mr. Bulmit Henley has cut quite swath among the academic squidology circuit, giving what has been an extremely popular talk describing his adventures in observing the Greater Habernickle Squid among the lower reaches of the River Moth; undoubtedly, the loss of his left leg almost to the groin has lent his tales an air of authenticity and danger, as well as lending him a quite distinguished air.

One is almost inclined to grant Mr. Henley a measure of sympathy and, yes, even admiration, since his physical bravery and prowess is unquestionable-- the physical evidence Mr. Henley brings to his talks and the self-consistency and level of detail in his answers to audience questions assures the authenticity of his experiences, if not his interpretation of them; however, this warm sentiment must be tempered in recognition that although Mr. Henley may have been blessed with courage and derring-do, he lacks utterly in other valuable skills-- chief among them the distinct inability to read a map or to tell one season from another.

It is a well-known fact that the Greater Habernickle Squid does not inhabit the lower reaches of the River Moth, but rather the more remote upper reaches, and furthermore that the Greater Habernickle Squid migrates northward to the Nicean Straits for the summer months. Mr. Henley claims to have encountered the Greater Habernickle Squid in the later summer months two years ago in the southern portions of the River Moth; therefore, the fearsome creature that has granted Mr. Henley his moment in the spotlight _cannot_ be the Greater Habernickle Squid, however much Mr. Henley may insist otherwise.

After some consideration and careful review of the particulars of Mr. Henley's account, I claim that the cephalopod that Mr. Henley encountered two years ago was, in fact, the Electroshock Pillow Octopus; although the traditional depiction of the remarkable Electroshock Pillow Octopus may bear little resemblance to that of the Greater Habernickle Squid, bear in mind that both these magnificent creatures are masters of deception and camouflage and can change their appearances at a the merest whim. 

[If the inquisitive reader is interested in the reasons behind the Electroshock Pillow Octopus' moniker, he or she is urged to consider the fact that in recipes that call for Electroshock Pillow Octopus tentacles or other flesh, there are inevitably very strict instructions on how the intrepid cook must make sure to discharge the corpse of the animal by grounding the body at both its right eye and beak, before even attempting to dismantle the creature in any fashion. The Electroshock Pillow Octopus possesses tissues of the peculiar quality that they may store enormous amounts of charge, a useful weapon for a live specimen and a vehicle of spiteful vengeance for a dead one, as many a charred chef has learned to his chagrin. 

As for the pillow part of its name-- this has a much less sinister explanation. The mantle of a male Electroshock Octopus (once properly grounded), if dried rather than consumed, yields a curiously yet delightfully fluffy cushion of a most pleasing texture, of the perfect shape and size in order to rest a weary head. The mantle of a female Electroshock Octopus is perhaps slightly less downy, yet its greater size makes for a perfectly comfortable body pillow or thin mattress.]

That these two animals are of generally of the same size and weight is the salient fact; in length, the female specimens are both about twice the size of a full-grown man, with the males in both species smaller-- the Greater Habernickle Squid generally a quarter of the female's size, and the Electroshock Pillow Squid usually a third. In order to establish the chain of thought that has led to my correct identification of the creature, let us examine Mr. Henley's published accounts of his encounter (I have chosen those excerpts relevant our current inquiry):

 _After donning my specially-made underwater gear,_ [Mr. Henley devotes the first part of his account to his invention and manufacture of some novel underwater breathing devices and thermal garb that he claims allowed him to conduct his adventures; his ingenuity is perhaps to be commended, but as much of his writings here appear to be little more than chest-beating and roaring with very little technical detail, I have omitted it. Interested readers may consult the bibliography for more information.] _I plunged into the River Moth and set forth in my attempt to observe the Greater Habernickle Squid. Despite my goggles, the silt made visibility extremely poor, although there were occasional calm, clear patches of water._

I swam bravely for for over an hour with no success, until up ahead, to my left, I suddenly had a sense of movement, an aura, a presence; I paused, treading water when I saw a delicate filament trailing through the water. I swam closer, and saw with a rising sense of surprise and joy that there were the filament ended in a pad with the characteristic hooks on it-- it was unmistakably a tentacle, and its mate fluttered perhaps a foot away.

I should note here that Mr. Henley's observations would, in almost every other circumstance, would immediately disqualify identification of the creature as an octopus, since octopi, of course, do not have tentacles and certainly do not have hooks on any of their limbs, only suckers. However, the Electroshock Pillow Octopus is unique among octopi in that it is the only creature of that family to possess a pair of Mating Fibrils, which indeed resemble two filaments which are longer than its usual complement of eight limbs. These mating fibrils do not have hooks, but it is more than likely that partially obscured suckers blocked with dirt and other debris may have appeared as hooks under the poor visibility.

_Carefully, I reached out and stroked a tentacle with gentle , since the Greater Habernickle Squid is said to have very little sensitivity in its tentacles, as compared to it other limbs._

I should note _here_ that its mating fibrils are the Electroshock Pillow Octopus's most sensitive erogenous zones. (Well, in reality, its only erogenous zones.)

This may explain the creature's next actions.

_Suddenly, without warning, the water seemed to slam forward around me, a shock wave of silt and pillowy, rubbery purple flesh. More out of instinct then out of fear at first, I immediately began to thrash and flail, trying desperately to swim away from the sudden maelstrom of chaos that threatened to envelope me. But despite my efforts, the Greater Habernickle Squid drew me into its sucking whirlpool inexorably, irresistably. I had wanted to observe the Greater Habernickle Squid at more intimate quarters than those previous efforts by Mssrs. Bleekly and Partlow, but this sort of encounter was not what I had had in mind._

If only Mr. Henley had realized.

_In spite of all my desperate struggles, the squid had hold of my left leg inside its mouth within seconds; I tried desperately to swim away, but it had an unshakeable grip on my leg, and the squid expertly wielded all of its limbs like great, fleshy whips to keep me from escaping. Instead of severing my limb and having done with it, the squid seemed to enjoy toying with me; it would alleviate its pressure on my leg for the slightest moment, allowing me to kick my leg free to the knee, and then the next instant it would gulp my leg back down back down to my very hip._

First, let us do away with Mr. Henley's ridiculous misconception that this alleged squid had our intrepid explorer's leg in its alleged mouth. If this had indeed been the case, Mr. Henley's leg would have been instantly severed, whether the squid had sadistic tendencies or not. The Greater Habernickle Squid's beak is capable of tearing through shark skin like a hot knife through butter--if such a beak had closed around Mr. Henley's leg even with the slightest of pressure, it would have immediately sliced through to the bone.

Second, let us review the mating habits of the Electroshock Pillow Octopus; as stated earlier, the male octopus is generally a third the size and weight of the female of the species, and clothes himself in much darker garb than the violently violet hues of his partner. The tubes and other assorted paraphernalia Mr. Henley brought along with him must have appeared to endow Mr. Henley with another four limbs in addition to his own, therefore sufficiently confusing this particular Electroshock Octopus into thinking that it had encountered a splendidly large and healthy partner.

Mr. Henley's direct fondling of its mating fibrils must have convinced it beyond doubt, resulting in its precipitate lunge. Normally, the female waits for the male Electroshock Pillow Octopus to lightly touch its mating fibrils, and shortly thereafter insert its hectocotylus (a specialized arm) in order to deposit its spermatophores into the female's mantle cavity; however, Mr. Henley's stimulation must have it stimulated it beyond bearing. Octopus arousal can, indeed, be rather overwhelming. (I speak from first-hand experience.)

More relevant to our current investigation, however, is the fact that the hectocotylus is inserted into the female's oviduct, _which does not possess a beak or any other severing mechanism._ This misguided octopus was not trying to eat Mr. Henley's leg; rather, it was trying to mate with it. (It may share this dubious distinction with Mr. Henley's Morrowean Retriever, a viciously overeager and brainless animal that slobbered all over this author when he innocently attended Mr. Henley's lecture at Blythe Academy.) This would account for the fact that Mr. Henley's leg was not bitten off in an instant, and the creature's curious back-and-forth attempts with the aforementioned limb.

 _The battle for my leg and my survival went on for what seemed an eternity but what in reality must have been only a few minutes. Then, I suddenly felt a sharp nibbling at the outside of my thigh. I looked back in horror, although of course I could see almost nothing except the silt and the huge purpling body of the squid. But I could feel what was happening easily enough; in a matter of seconds, the squid had gnawed through half my leg, bitten through bone, and torn through the rest of my leg._

Another salient fact about Electroshock Pillow Octopus reproduction is that after the male has inserted its hectocotylized arm into the oviduct, it detaches the arm from its body in order to complete mating. Mr. Henley's octopus must have wondered at the recalcitrance of its partner in refusing to let go in any prompt fashion, and eventually decided to take matters into its own beak.

_Almost fainting from shock and blood loss, after a few traumatized moments I realized that I was now free from the grasp of the ravenous squid, and began swimming as quickly as possible. I had cleared several feet of distance and almost dared to breathe a sigh of relief at the lack of pursuit when I felt an ominous pressure wave behind me. I glanced back as quickly as I could to see that the squid had, indeed, decided to give chase. I swam as hard as I could, adrenaline lending a burst of terrifies strength, yet curiously the squid did not seem intent on finishing devouring me._

Rather, it whipped its limbs and tentacles around me in at first an almost languid, then increasingly irate motions; in particular, it seemed to whip its thready tentacles at me with, although its blows did not sting in the least. Finally, in frustration, I grasped one of its tentacles and pulled as hard as I could. To my surprise, the tip of the tentacle snapped off easily, and in the next instant the squid instantly retreated, whether out of pain or surprise I still do not know. I was then able to complete my swim to safety unmolested, [ha!] _despite the bloody stump where my left leg had once been._

It is this post-coital behavior that most clearly identifies Mr. Henley's frustrated lover as the Electroshock Pillow Octopus. The informed reader may have read this analysis thus far with justifiable skepticism, for a great many cephalopods share almost identical mating habits with the Electroshock Pillow Octopus (including many squid), and the visible evidence is, even by Mr. Henley's account, extremely poor and obviously subject to multiple interpretations.

However, the Electroshock Pillow Octopus _is_ the only known creature in all the oceans and waters to engage in this characteristic, sentimental post-coital ritual: after detaching its hectocotylized arm inside the female's oviduct, the male octopus takes a parallel memento of his lover by snapping off the tip of the female's right mating fibril and consuming it. This bizarre but poignant behavior actually has a very practical use; the Electroshock Pillow Octopus is one of five cephalopod species that practice monogamy. By ingesting the female's mating fibril post-coitus, the male is then able to exude a very particular set of pheromones that act as a homing beacon specific for his lover, allowing male and female to find each other and reunite each summer in the River Moth after their individual peregrinations during the rest of the year.

Therefore, one cannot help but view the dried up, withered husk of cephalopod flesh that Mr. Henley flourishes at his talks without a certain sense of poignant sympathy; this memento that he so ignorantly ripped from his misguided inamorata is a symbol of the withered hopes and dreams of some poor, pining octopus. Mr. Henley generally ends his lectures by expressing his regret that he can no longer continue his career in squidology fieldwork, but it is in his own best interest that he remain safely away from the water. Although ingestion of the mating tendril is necessary for the full effect, even prolonged exposure to it may have marked Mr. Henley in some subtle but tangible fashion. 

It is entirely possible that should he ever even submerge so much as a toe in the River Moth, the attack he endured that resulted in the loss of his leg may seem nothing compared to his former paramour flinging herself at him with all the anxious, angry, and aroused fervor of a faithful lover ignored. Hell hath no fury like a female Electroshock Pillow Octopus scorned. But one cannot help but spare a tender thought for that octopus, who if she still lives, is doubtless waiting still in the River Moth, sorrow and yearning beating strong in each of her three hearts.

In conclusion, though Mr. Henley has certainly endured a harrowing ordeal, **it must be made absolutely clear that he did not sustain his injuries in the advancement of squidology.** No; he inadvertently demonstrated the dangers of the lesser field of octopodology-- but _regardless,_ his entire adventure could have been neatly avoided if he were capable of orienting himself properly in space and time, and perhaps was a little more circumspect in approaching any unknown creatures of strange habits and amorous tastes. 

True, if Mr. Henley had oriented himself appropriately and sought the Greater Habernickle Squid in the Nicean Straits during those late summer months, he would have had to deal with Laryngian Alligators, blue-ringed fever, and of course the deadly stings of the Greater Habernickle Squid itself, but that is _not the point._ No self-respecting squidologist may use Mr. Henley's story to justify _not_ engaging in either squidology _or_ octopodology fieldwork, unless one wishes to emulate Mr. Henley's style of research, characterized by criminal obliviousness, suicidal recklessness, and rampant disregard for the tenderer feelings of emotionally and physically vulnerable cephalopods.

I hope that you, dear reader, do now understood the scale of the deception of which you have been the victim; a thorough reference of all works I found useful in my research in writing this have been included in the end matter, so the interested reader may choose to confirm my own conclusions. I will confess here that my dearest wish is that this publication may spur all those enterprising squidologists who hope to prove themselves worthy of the title to now endeavor to restore the honesty and splendor of the noble field of squidology. It may be a long and arduous task, but it is, undoubtedly, a worthy one.

_Editor's note: The end matter that the author has included is so extensive that it was not possible to include it in its entirety within the format of this chapbook. If any reader is interested in obtaining a copy of the end matter (personally, we doubt it), then please send a self-addressed stamped **box** (not envelope) to 24 Thrawl Avenue, City of Ambergris-- please make sure the box is sufficiently large to enclose two pounds of paper and that the postage is enough to transport such._

 


End file.
